Gospel Story Finder

After dinner, Dad called everyone together for family home evening. “Tonight,” he said, “we’re going to learn about one of our early pioneers—Jesse Nathaniel Smith.” He opened a small red book and showed them a photo of a white-haired man with a big, bushy beard, a long nose, big ears, and thoughtful eyes.
“Who is he, Dad?” Jay asked.
“Jesse N. Smith was a young cousin of the Prophet Joseph Smith. His father, Silas, was a younger brother of Joseph Smith, Sr., the Prophet’s father.”
“Wow!” Jay exclaimed. “I didn’t know that the Prophet Joseph Smith had any cousins in the Church.”
Dad smiled. “The Smith family is a big, wonderful family, Jay. Jesse N. Smith has many descendants in the Church today, and we are some of them. He was an influential mission president in Scandinavia and an early settler in Utah and Arizona. But tonight I want to tell you something about Jesse when he was a boy.” Dad turned to Susan. “His birthday is very close to yours, Susan. He was born in New York State on December 2, 1834.”
“My birthday’s December third—we’re almost twins!”
Dad turned a few pages, and began telling about their ancestor. “Things were not easy or comfortable for Jesse and his family. He was only three years old when they had to leave Kirtland with the rest of the Saints and make the long journey to Missouri. His brother Silas was seven, and his brother John was five. They traveled for six months to reach their new home in Far West. Even before they got there, they were forced to flee from angry mobs on the trail. They had to live one winter in a crude log cabin, and they ate mostly boiled, dried corn because there was no mill to grind the corn into meal. Life was so hard that John died before the winter was over.”
Susan looked at Jay. What would it be like if Jay or Greg died? she wondered.
“Less than a year later,” Dad continued, “the family was in Illinois. There was a lot of illness, and Jesse’s father died in September.”
“Oh no!” Susan jumped up to snuggle beside her dad. “What did they do?”
“They moved to Nauvoo, and the Prophet Joseph and Hyrum helped for a while. When they were killed, Jesse and his family moved across the river to live near his Uncle John Smith in a settlement called Zarahemla. Uncle John helped them, but they had to earn a living for themselves.”
“You mean Jesse had to go to work when he was a little boy?” Susan asked.
“That’s right. When he was ten, he went to work for a farmer who wasn’t very nice to him. He had to live on a farm away from his mother and brother. Every morning he had to get up very early and go a quarter of a mile to get all the water for the day from a well. He worked the rest of the day in the fields. Then he had to bring home the cows. He said, ‘This was the most lonesome and tedious part of my service, as I was sometimes gone in the woods until after dark.’”
“When did he rest?” Susan asked.
“Only on Sundays, when he was allowed to visit his mother.” Dad looked down at the page. “Sometimes Jesse had special chores. He said, ‘On washing days, I carried water the whole day.’ What do you think it was like to carry water all day, a quarter of a mile each trip?”
“Pretty hard,” Jay said. “But I bet I could do it.”
“Not me,” Susan grumbled. “I’d just sit down and not go at all.”
“Well,” Dad said. “Maybe you’re strong enough for one trip. Let’s find out. Everybody come outside with me.”
“So,” Dad said when they were all inside and Mom was passing out cupcakes for a treat. “How was that?”
“It was awful!” Susan admitted. “And I think it was awful that Jesse had to do it every day. Why did he have to work so hard? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, they needed money, Susan. But I think working was good for him, too. Hauling all that water made his arms grow strong,” Dad said. “And some things soon happened to him that made that a very good thing.” Dad opened the journal again. “He wrote, ‘During the summer of 1845, I took a job of hoeing corn, thus earning the first pair of boots I ever owned.’ Your arms have to be strong to hoe all day long. Then, not long after that, Jesse and his family went west with Uncle John Smith. He had two wagons, and Jesse’s mother had one of her own. Who do you think was assigned to drive one of those wagons?” Dad asked, looking at Susan.
“Jesse?”
“That’s right. Even though he was only twelve, Jesse drove a wagon with four big oxen all the way across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. His Aunt Clarissa rode with him. His arms had to be pretty strong to control the oxen, to keep them pulling that wagon day after day over rivers, through mud, up rocky mountains, and down steep canyons. He even had to hold them steady when the buffalo came thundering by. I’m sure his muscles grew even more, driving the ox teams. And that was a good thing, too.”
“Why?” It was Jay’s turn to be surprised.
“His work wasn’t over just because he had arrived in the valley. He wrote, ‘I herded the cows the whole [first] winter through for Uncle John and … a few others. I was exceedingly hungry, [being] at an age when my appetite was very keen; but there was no help for it. We voluntarily put ourselves on rations; we had about half a pound of flour per day for each person, without any vegetables, and but little meat; sometimes no meat. For months my desire for food was not satisfied.’”
“I can’t imagine working all day when you’re so hungry,” Jay said.
“And herding wasn’t all he had to do, either.” Dad continued reading: “‘As the Spring approached, preparations were made for farming and gardening. I drove the team to break the land for [two neighbor men] and [for] my brother and myself a patch of ground. … We planted considerable corn, … also … beans and peas and some few other vegetables … and an acre of wheat.’ Then,” Dad said, looking up, “he had to tend all those crops—weeding, irrigating, and harvesting them. It was hard because he was inexperienced. He said, ‘Our wheat did poorly, not having sufficient water. As we were unused to irrigating, we did not apply the water properly. We had to pull the most of it, as it was too short to cut—’”

When Heber J. Grant was a young man, he worked for an insurance agent, Mr. H. R. Mann. He treated Heber like a son.
Mr. Mann: Heber, why don’t you go to the baseball game this afternoon and then come tell me about it during supper?
Heber: Thanks, Mr. Mann!
Besides working for Mr. Mann, Heber earned money writing greeting cards and wedding invitations. He stayed at the office late into the evening, spreading his greeting cards on his large office desk to let the ink dry.
On New Year’s Eve, Mr. Mann’s partner, Mr. Wadsworth, found Heber still busy at the office writing greeting cards.
Mr. Wadsworth: Heber, what on earth are you doing?
Heber: Getting my cards ready to sell tomorrow.
Mr. Wadsworth: You are the only one I’m going to give a New Year’s present to. You seem to enjoy work while most of the other boys watch the clock to see how soon they can leave.
Heber: Wow! A hundred dollars?
Heber later said that knowing he had earned the confidence of his employer meant much more to him than the money. It inspired him to succeed in business and in the community.
As prophet, he taught young people to be hard workers, too.
Heber: Be inspired with a desire to labor and learn, and you will achieve success in the battle of life.

A friend of mine, Lena Larsen, is a Muslim from Norway. Recently Lena told me she reads the Koran every year during Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting.

“Each time I find something different,” she said, echoing my own view about the value of rereading the Book of Mormon.

During one recent reading she noticed a powerful defense of religious freedom in the story of Noah. We are familiar with Noah and the ark from the Old Testament and Sunday School, but there is a version in the Koran as well. In that telling of the story, Noah had a rebellious son who wouldn’t get on the ark. Even when the rain was falling, his son scrambled up a mountain as the ark floated by, and Noah pled with his son to get on board.

Noah said, “O my son, come aboard with us and be not with the disbelievers.”

The exchange involved an Arabic term that is intimate and endearing: yabunayya, which is a very sweet and caring way of saying “O my son.”

Noah’s son replied, “I will take refuge on a mountain to protect me from the water.”

Noah, Lena said to me sadly, let his son go. “When I read these verses,” she said, “I feel Noah’s pain. As a caring father, he wants the best for his son, but he has to accept that the son chooses his own destiny.” On a personal level, Lena told me, this means that “religious freedom includes the right for every individual to choose freely.”

When it was time for Erik’s Eagle project, he found plenty of people willing to help. “I always went out helping the other guys with their projects, and they helped me in return,” he says.
The cemetery in Patagonia sits on a hill and overlooks the town. Although it is still used, the cemetery doesn’t receive continual maintenance, and many of the headstones were buried, and weeds and trash had covered others. For his Eagle project, Erik, with the help of his family, ward members, and friends from the community, cleaned the cemetery.

Not many children serve in a Church calling before they graduate from Primary. But George N.[space]from Uganda was only five years old when he was called to be the chorister in his branch.
The chorister is the person who stands up in front of everybody during sacrament meeting to lead the singing. It’s an important job!
“I used to be very nervous when I was younger,” George says. But even then he always did his best. He improved every week. Before long he was leading the music confidently.
George enjoys serving in his calling. “I feel good,” he says. “I feel like the Spirit is inside the room.”

When the Murray Utah West Stake decided to make hygiene kits as part of their youth conference, Amy Woodland, of the 13th Ward, was one of those asked to collect and organize supplies for her ward.
She says of the experience, “When I was asked to help with my youth conference and gather items for a humanitarian project, I sat down with my mom and talked about how I was going to organize the project and get all the items I could. I started by passing out flyers that told what items we needed and took them to each house in my neighborhood. I also went into priesthood meetings, Relief Society, Primary, Young Men, and Young Women to announce the items needed.
“Before I knew it, I had people dropping items off at my house, calling me to find out more about the humanitarian project, and giving me money to purchase supplies that we needed the most. Then, when youth conference came around, we had tons of items that other girls had collected from other wards in the stake.
“Being able to participate in this project was amazing! It felt so good knowing that these hygiene kits were sent out to children, adults, and families who were really in need of them. Service is something that really should be spread throughout the world. It has helped me want to serve others more. I learned that by serving others we are serving Heavenly Father.”

The Fernández Lee family moved to the Dominican Republic in August 2022. There, they met young missionaries to learn about the teachings of Jesus Christ and His restored Church. The family consists of Joel Fernández Méndez, his wife, Yoleidy Lee Muñoz, and their two children, Eileen Alejandra (17) and Brayan Alejandro (11). Despite the trials and tribulations of being away from their homeland and loved ones, they are a family that has not been discouraged but has held onto the iron rod with faith.
They received a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and were baptized on October 29, 2023. The family has firmly committed themselves to the path of covenants and to their efforts to magnify and expand the work of the Lord on earth. They enthusiastically embrace the work of the temple and family history and attend the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple to do baptisms regularly. They have already taken the temple preparation course, preparing to receive their endowment and sealing when the time comes.
The Fernandez Lee family belongs to the Mirador Ward in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic San Gerónimo Stake. Brother Fernandez was called as the first counselor in the Sunday School, and Sister Lee de Fernández as a Young Women advisor.

Six-year-old Justin was playing on the floor with his cars. His mother leaned down and kissed him. “I’m taking Alison for her checkup; then I’m going shopping. I won’t be back until suppertime. Be good for Daddy while I’m gone,” she said.
“I will,” Justin promised. When Mother had left, Justin puckered his thick eyebrows. “I think Mommy’s sad,” he told Daddy.
“Oh? Why do you think that?”
“Because Christmas is almost here, and she told me that it’ll be over before she can enjoy it.” Jason explained.
“Mommy’s been very busy the past two months with both a new baby and a new house,” Daddy said. “She hasn’t had time to do all the special things that she likes to do for us at Christmastime.”
“I know, Daddy. Christmas is just a week away, and we don’t even have our tree up yet.” Justin bit his lip thoughtfully.
“Maybe we can put one up and decorate it tomorrow,” Daddy said.
Justin’s blue eyes sparkled. “Why don’t we do it now and surprise her?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Daddy replied. “Let’s get busy.”
“We can save some ornaments for Mommy to put on, too,” Justin said. “I know which ones are her favorites.”
By lunchtime, the tree was decorated. “It’s beautiful,” Justin sighed.
“So are you,” Daddy teased, pulling tinsel out of Justin’s hair.
Justin giggled. “What’s for lunch?”
“How about chicken noodle sandwiches and peanut butter soup? My own secret recipe.” Daddy always joked about his cooking.
“Yeah!” Justin shouted, jumping up and down. “And I’ll make the milk and pour the salad. My own secret recipe!”
After lunch Justin helped clear the table. “Mommy hasn’t made Christmas cookies this year, either,” he said. “Can we do that, too, Daddy?”
“That’s a big job,” Daddy said as he washed the dishes. “After you mix the dough, it has to chill for a long time. Then you have to roll it out and cut out the shapes. And I’m not sure I know what recipe your mom uses.”
“We could buy the rolled-up cookie dough at the store. You just slice the dough and put it on the cookie sheet. If we put colored sugar on them to make them pretty, they’d look like Christmas tree balls.”
Daddy laughed. “You’re full of ideas today, aren’t you? Get your coat. We’re going to the store.”
“Yea!” Justin yelled as he dashed through the house.
Later that afternoon Justin knelt on a stool and leaned over the kitchen counter as he helped his dad. The whole house smelled of freshly baked sugar cookies.
“Mommy will be home soon,” Daddy said, taking a last batch of cookies from the oven. “I think that that’s all we can do for today.”
“There’s just one more thing,” Justin said as he climbed down from the stool and headed for his bedroom. “I’m going to make a Christmas card for her.”
In a few minutes he came back with a pencil and his card. “How do you spell Alison?” he asked.
Daddy spelled slowly while Justin wrote very carefully.
When Mommy came home, she stopped in the doorway and breathed deeply. “What a wonderful smell!” she exclaimed. Then she stared at the lights twinkling on the tree. Daddy took her packages and Alison, and Justin handed her the card. She read:
“To Mom,
Does it feel like Christmas now?
We love you.
Justin, Daddy, and Alison.”
Mommy hugged Justin close. Her eyes sparkled like the lights on the tree. “Yes, Justin, it does. It feels like the best Christmas ever!”

In his biography on Ralph Waldo Emerson, Van Wyck Brooks relates that Emerson was invited to speak at the commemoration of the 300th anniversary of the great poet Shakespeare’s birth. After proper introduction Emerson presented himself at the pulpit and then sat down. He had forgotten his notes. He preferred to say nothing rather than words not well measured. For some, it was Emerson in one of his most eloquent hours.4

Carissa Thorne is from Orem, Utah. When she attended a national convention for student council leaders last summer, she thought she and a few of her friends were the only Mormons at the conference. So imagine her surprise when two girls walked up and said:
“Hi, we’re Charlene and Jennifer. We’re from Hawaii, and we’re Mormons. Are you?”
Charlene Ignacio and Jennifer Kajiyama were able to locate a total of 25 LDS students at the conference using this method. The group had a testimony meeting and invited anyone who was interested to attend. They placed seven copies of the Book of Mormon and answered lots of questions about their beliefs.
“We found that this conference was a testimony building experience,” says Carissa. “Not only were we touched by our experiences, but many others were also touched by our testimonies of Jesus Christ.”

I was born and raised in El Progreso, a small town in Guatemala. When I was about 10 years old, an unusual pamphlet came into my hands. It contained the story of Joseph Smith, a young boy who saw a vision of God the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
I was deeply impressed by this story. Unsatisfied with the training I was receiving in the religion of my parents, I wanted to know more about the boy in the pamphlet. But I didn’t know where to get information. In time I lost the pamphlet, but I never forgot about it. I wondered if I would ever find another like it.
As a teenager and young adult, I investigated several religious denominations. I even took classes in their doctrine and received diplomas. But there were aspects of these religions that troubled me, and I felt uncomfortable with the criticism that clergy of different faiths sometimes directed at one another. By this time I had started reading the Bible, and as I compared the Bible with what I saw in the religions I had studied, I became convinced those religions lacked God’s authority.
I knelt many times in prayer, pleading with God to guide me to His true Church. I promised that if He did, I would be faithful in keeping His commandments and I would always serve Him.
I had dreams, too, in which I told God I was willing to do anything to receive forgiveness for my sins. I would wake up and find my pillow wet with tears. I also asked God to help me find the pamphlet about Joseph Smith again.
By 1968 I had a wife and a son. We moved to Guatemala City so I could find better employment. On 20 November 1975, two young American women, simply dressed, knocked on our door. They said they had a message for my family. We made an appointment for them to come back at a later time.
I remember the first discussion clearly. One of the young women said a prayer, and then the other one began to talk about Joseph Smith. In her hands was a copy of the pamphlet I had read as a boy! My search for the truth had come to an end in my own living room.
No words can express what I felt at that moment. I wanted to snatch the pamphlet out of her hands. The sisters noticed the way I was looking at it and said they would leave it with me. When they gave me that precious pamphlet, I could hardly believe it. I put it in my shirt pocket to keep it near my heart.
Two days later the missionaries returned. When they saw the pamphlet in my pocket, they asked if I had read it. I told them they didn’t realize what it meant to me. I explained I had read it as a boy and had prayed to find it again.
On Sunday our family went to church. We arrived very early, and the sisters were surprised to see us. They hadn’t really invited us, just told us where the building was.
The sisters continued to teach us. Although they didn’t speak Spanish very well, they taught by the Holy Ghost. When they taught us about repentance, I felt something I had never felt before and started to cry. Then I realized we were all crying. I was convinced I had found the true Church.
My wife, Rosa Élida, had a similar experience. It happened when the sisters invited us to be baptized. “Sister Salguero,” they asked, “do you want to follow the Savior?” She realized right then that she did.
When I asked the Lord to help me find His Church, I promised I would serve Him. From the first time I went to church, I have faithfully attended and have tried to serve diligently. I have had many wonderful Church callings, including serving twice as bishop. My wife has served in the Primary and Relief Society and in the family history program. My eldest son served a full-time mission, and now his younger brother is preparing to serve. We have two daughters who are also active in the Church.
Whenever I am asked to speak in church, I try to communicate the joy I feel as a member of the Lord’s Church. I know that God lives and that through the Prophet Joseph Smith He has restored to us His gospel, His Church, and the authority of His priesthood.

An Unexpected Mission Call
I had always wanted to serve a mission. I grew up in Orem, Utah, and went to college in Arkansas. As I awaited my mission call, I was sure that with all of my language training and with my vocal skills I would be assigned to an exciting, exotic place—maybe even a place where I could make connections to later begin my fabulous ­operatic career!
I was at the University of Arkansas, where a mission call was an anomaly among my peers, so many waited with anticipation to see where I might go. I was assigned to the Utah Ogden Mission, speaking English.
I was almost embarrassed to tell anyone, but of course I went. Heavenly Father needed me to learn that in order to serve Him, I needed to be humble, and here was a small dose of humility just to get me started.
I spent most of my time on my mission in very small towns in Idaho and Wyoming, and I love the people from my mission! I learned so many important things and grew my testimony like never before. And that mission location directly affected my post-mission plans and my ­subsequent life course, including where I eventually went to graduate school and met my husband.

I anticipated success when I entered a Lions Club speaking contest that spring, too. The topic was “Generation Gap—Fact or Fantasy?” My talk was custom-tailored for the judges’ preferences, and I won the contest by defeating a girl named Karen, a Mormon.
I won because I had said what the judges wanted to hear. But in my mind, Karen’s talk based on her church’s doctrines, was far more thought-provoking. Her delivery enveloped me in its sincere conviction. We became friends.
As we got to know each other, our conversations sometimes evolved into debates, with Karen defending religion while I argued for science. Our discussions served mostly to frustrate her.
But Karen had a friend named Nese. Nese never said more than “Hi” to me in the halls, but she had paid close attention to my conversations with Karen.
Nese never told me directly that she was a Latter-day Saint. She strolled up to my table in the library one day during study hall. “May I sit down?” she asked. At some point during the conversation, she said she was a member of the house of Israel. I assumed she meant she was Jewish.
We had study hall at the same hour, and during the remaining months of our senior year, Nese and I sorted through the many religious questions flooding my mind. She told me later she “just wanted to share her opinion with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” I would voice my ideas on a subject like life after death, and then she would explain her beliefs. Her confidence amazed me. It wasn’t until later that I found out she was a Latter-day Saint.
By then our talks were so enjoyable I began spending lunch hours with Nese and her Mormon friends. They were refreshing to be around. No smoking, no swearing, no off-color jokes. Best of all, they never seemed to put anybody down—they respected each other’s feelings. It was different being with them, and I enjoyed it.
Toward the end of the school year, Karen invited me to a Gold and Green Ball, whatever that was! I had never been to a dance in a church, and I had to dress in a suit! I was amazed to see a gym in a church building.
But what went on in the gym surprised me even more. Adults and teenagers were talking, laughing, and even dancing together. My friends had always thought it was “uncool” to like your parents. All over the nation there was an uproar about communication breakdown between parents and their children. But these people all seemed to be friends, regardless of age.
I asked Karen about it. She said it was because of the Church. As she took me on a tour of the building, I pondered what she had said. By the time I went home that night, I felt these people were unique, choice in some way I didn’t fully understand. They had a lot to be proud of.
After graduation my summer job stole me from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was nearly starved by my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning.” How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
When fall came, Nese left to attend Brigham Young University. I returned to Berkeley. Loneliness encompassed me again. Nese’s letters arrived regularly, two or three times weekly. I asked her why she was Mormon. The next letter bulged the envelope. It was a detailed explanation of her struggle to remain active and maintain a firm testimony while living with her inactive family.
I decided I had to go to church. That was a difficult decision because no one pushed me to attend. I had been allowed to come to the conclusion on my own.
I nearly changed my mind when I opened the door. I entered the chapel by myself, spotted an empty seat on the back row, and quickly sat down. Not all alone here, too! I wondered inside.
Then suddenly Karen, who had appeared from nowhere, was shaking my hand. “Good morning, David,” she said, grinning. I wasn’t alone anymore. She introduced me to people, showed me which class to go to, and sat beside me the entire time.
I was impressed to find a class I could bring my questions to and get answers. To top it off, the teacher, Sister Booras, took time afterwards to thank me for coming. “You added a great deal to our class,” she said. I had never felt so at home before.
But I still didn’t have that spiritual testimony all the Church members kept telling me about. I liked the Church; I could believe in many of its teachings, but I didn’t know it was true. I kept attending the meetings anyway.
One month later, Nese urged me to come to BYU. I jumped at the chance and rushed to Provo for a whirlwind visit. She described her school as if it were part of her. As we walked around campus, all we talked about was religion. My mind was overflowing with questions again, as it had been in the high school library. I still didn’t see how everything fit together.
The stone in my path was the principle of eternal progression. “It’s no good,” I said. “How can man, who was created by God, ever hope to be a god?”
We were standing in front of the Joseph Smith Building. Nese paused for a moment.
“Dave,” she said, “before we were ever created physically, we were created spiritually as God’s sons and daughters. A part of us, our spirit, comes directly from him as our Father.”
It finally clicked! It all fell into place. My grin spread to a smile and erupted as a laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning. My mind jumped from doctrine to doctrine. “Yes, yes, it all fits!” I wanted to dance or sing or run.
There, on the steps of the Joseph Smith Building, the Spirit bore witness to me of the gospel plan. I knew in my heart I would join the Church.
I still had to read the Book of Mormon, learn to pray, and take the missionary discussions. But my life was changed from that moment on. I had found truth, purpose, and a life to fulfill. Five weeks later I was baptized.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission. When I returned, Nese and I decided to continue the eternal journey we had begun with conversations at a table in a library. We were married in the Provo Temple.
Every time I look at my wife, I thank the Lord that there was a girl in my high school with enough faith to “just want to share her beliefs with someone who wouldn’t laugh at her.” She touched my head and changed my life.

The fourteen-month-old son of a doctor became very ill. During the course of his treatment many consultants were brought in, but their contributions resulted only in a symptomatic approach to the disease. The result was that the child’s condition steadily worsened. His temperature was 104 degrees and the family had entirely given up hope for his recovery; his death was expected momentarily. At this point, a number of miraculous things happened. On their own and without a previous appointment, the bishop and his counselors came to visit the family. At the request of the family, they administered to the child. Almost immediately following the blessing, an intern, who was a friend of the family, stepped into the room and said, “Why not give him a transfusion?” The intern was a universal blood donor, and blood was taken from him immediately and given to the child. The child’s temperature dropped from 104 degrees to normal and remained at normal throughout his hospital stay. This is a case where medical aid had essentially failed; and on the basis of what medicine could offer, the child’s life had been despaired. The priesthood came into the picture, and the administration was followed by additional medical steps that previously had not been projected. The child’s life was saved. Today he has matured and has a lovely wife and family.

Hastily, John Salinger wrote down the details of the assignment on the back of the list of materials to read: three-page paper due on the fifth, about world hunger, use the list of materials to be read.
The bell rang, and John walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.
When the Mormon students who ate lunch together were seated in their usual places in the cafeteria, John asked the question: “Did Mr. Perkins give your class an assignment on population and hunger today?”
Soon it was established that not only had John’s government class received the assignment, but also Kamio Kamura’s economics class, as well as Julie’s history class.
“It seems as though I’ve received a similar assignment at least once each semester from one teacher or another for the last three years. If it isn’t overpopulation, it’s abortion or world hunger,” added Lisa.
“And the material in the reading list makes it pretty clear what your conclusions are supposed to be: The world is overcrowded. No one should have a large family. Abortions are needed to control population growth. We don’t have enough food! But, I don’t believe all that!” protested Julie.
“Maybe we’re being unfair to the teachers,” said John. I think Mr. Perkins and the other teachers give assignments on these subjects because they are really concerned about them. And many of them agree with what the Church teaches.”
“Maybe so, John,” answered Lisa, “but how do we do the assignment when the teacher’s opinions don’t seem to agree with what the Church teaches?”
These young people have asked some interesting questions. Frequently, the opinions of teachers will differ from Church policies, the statements of Church leaders, and the scriptures.
“Let’s go talk to Mr. Morgan,” said John. “He has taught at this school for a long time and he has been a bishop and a seminary teacher even longer.”
“I can understand that you have a problem,” said Bishop Morgan, “but it’s not the problem you mentioned. You are assuming that you may use only the sources on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and that you must reach the same conclusions as the authors on that list. I have no doubt,” continued the bishop, “that you are welcome to use other sources, and to state other points of view, and to reach different conclusions if that is what your research leads you to.”
“But are there books and articles that support what the Church teaches?” asked Lisa.
“Certainly,” replied Bishop Morgan. “There are few fields of study without controversy. Honest, sincere researchers, working with the same data, may come to widely different conclusions and then publish documented articles and books in support of their conclusions.
“Some scientists are sure the world is overcrowded with four billion people. Others feel that the earth is capable of providing well for 40 or 50 or even 100 billion people.
“And among social scientists the differences of opinion are probably even greater because they work with the most complex subject of all: people. That’s why you get strong conflicting opinions like these. There are no easy answers.
“As Latter-day Saints, we are fortunate to have revealed truth to guide us in these controversial subjects, and we should be grateful for that. And there are many researchers, both LDS and otherwise, whose writings agree with what the Lord has revealed. Your problem is simply to find these writings and then decide which of them will be useful in your assignments.”
In the next three weeks John, Julie, and Kamio did a lot of hard work. Working together, they carefully read everything on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and then began doing research in both the school and public libraries.
They contacted various social service and government agencies and obtained some useful materials, references and statistics. Other teachers were consulted.
John and Julie and Kamio received top grades for their work in presenting the Church’s position. They were invited to present their findings to their respective classes and to answer questions from other students. They were well prepared with information to support their beliefs.
Best of all, they learned that there really are good and valid reasons for the Church’s position concerning difficult moral issues. They discovered that some teachers with strong opinions respect students who do good, thorough research, even when they disagree with them. And they learned that the gospel of Jesus Christ is always in harmony with the truth from whatever source.

I saw this in my parents’ marriage. In my mother’s final illness, the more uncomfortable she became, the more giving her comfort became the dominant intent of my father’s life. He asked that the hospital set up a bed in her room. He was determined to be there to be sure that she wanted for nothing. He walked the miles to work each morning and back to her side at night through those difficult times for her. I believe it was a gift from God to him that his power to love grew when it mattered so much to her. I think he was doing what Jesus would have done out of love.

Here’s a letter from one of these young ladies that gives an idea of what it’s all about:

Good things are happening at Phanat Nikhom. Some of us had a very special experience yesterday that Sister Edmonds asked me to write and share with you. We were walking down a road in the Holding Center. In the distance we saw a small group of people walking toward us. A little girl bolted out from the group, running toward us with outstretched arms. She stopped. She was so very cute. I bent down to take her in my arms and give her a big hug. I held her, and we tried to talk to her while the rest of the group joined us. We talked with the mother in Cantonese and learned that these were Vietnamese who just arrived three days ago from another camp. The little girl was five years old and had never seen Westerners before, yet, as her mother said, she so joyously welcomed us. Later we were talking with a Catholic father who is a wonderful man working in these camps. I said, “It’s easy for us to feel so strongly about these wonderful people, these refugees.” I told him about the experience we had just had with the little Vietnamese girl. He stopped me. He said, “That proves my point about you girls. She wouldn’t have done that to volunteers from any of these other fine agencies. She could see that you are different.”

And with this our lovely representative finishes:

I am so happy that I can be here sharing with these precious people. I’m glad the light of the gospel helps us to be different. Thank you for your prayers and support.

I had the good fortune to be introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through a friend. I was taught by missionaries who were called by God to bring the light of the gospel to the world. Two years after my baptism I was called to serve in the Italy Milan Mission. Before I left, I had a profound spiritual experience.
My parents, who were not members of the Church, didn’t share my joy in this missionary opportunity. We had terrible arguments that caused me much suffering.
Two days before I left on my mission, both my parents suddenly became seriously ill. My mother had a health crisis for which she was hospitalized. Nothing the doctors tried seemed to help. My father had cirrhosis of the liver, from which the doctors said it would be difficult to recover.
That evening I knelt and prayed to my Heavenly Father, saying, “Father, help me. My family is sick, and I can’t leave them in these circumstances. I pray, Father, help me know whether it’s right to leave or stay.”
I meditated on my situation for a few minutes. Then I felt a subtle but penetrating voice that said, “Have faith, and everything will work out for the best.”
Notwithstanding the sorrow I felt in seeing my family in poor health, I decided to get on the airplane that would take me to Rome and then to the United States, where I attended the missionary training center. My nights at the MTC were not happy. I thought over and over again about my parents. Finally, with the approval of the MTC president, I was able to call them to see how they were doing.
On the phone, my mother told me with great joy that she and my father had had a miracle from the Lord—words I never would have expected to hear from a woman without a lot of faith. She told me that after I left, their health had improved, and the doctors couldn’t explain it. My parents were healthy and happy. My joy was full.
Through this experience, my testimony of the power of faith, prayer, and obedience grew. I am grateful that the Lord took care of my family during my mission.

Lea and Mom were almost done shopping. Then Mom stopped to look at some clothes.
“I’ll be just a few minutes,” Mom said.
Lea sighed. When Mom said “a few minutes,” sometimes it meant 20!
Lea found a shelf of toys nearby. She flipped through a coloring book and then tossed a bouncy ball a few times. But that got boring pretty fast.
Then she picked up something shiny and round. It was a yo-yo! It looked just like the one Oskar brought to school last week. During recess he showed everyone his fancy tricks. The tricks had names like “Walk the Dog” and “Around the World.” Lea asked him if she could try, but Oskar wouldn’t let her.
Lea slipped the loop of the string over her finger. She let the yo-yo drop and tugged on the string like she had seen Oskar do. The yo-yo hit the floor with a clunk. She tried again. After a few tries, she got the yo-yo to come back up to her hand! If she could figure that out so quickly, she could probably learn to do all the tricks Oskar had done!
That’s when Lea looked at the price tag. She frowned. She didn’t have nearly that much in her money jar at home.
“I’m almost done, Lea,” Mom called.
Lea sighed. She was about to put the yo-yo back when an idea popped into her head. The yo-yo wasn’t very big. She could just slip it into her pocket! The store owner wasn’t looking. No one would ever know. She could keep it and learn to do new tricks. The kids at school would think she was so cool.
As Lea looked down at the yo-yo, she felt prickly and nervous. Her hands felt sweaty. She gripped the yo-yo tighter. What was this bad feeling? She wanted it to go away.
Then she remembered something Dad told her before she got baptized.
“After you’re baptized, you’ll receive the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Dad had said. “The Holy Ghost helps us make good choices. He speaks to us in a still, small voice.”
“He’ll talk to me?” Lea asked.
“Not always,” Dad said. “It may be like a thought coming into your mind. Or a feeling coming into your heart.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“It’s different for each person,” Dad said. “But usually, when you do something good, the Holy Ghost will help you feel calm and peaceful. When there’s something dangerous, He will warn you. And when you want to do something wrong, the Holy Ghost will leave, and you’ll feel confused or unhappy.”
Lea looked down at the yo-yo. She really wanted it. But she knew the Holy Ghost was telling her that stealing was wrong.
Lea put the yo-yo back on the shelf. As soon as she did, she felt peaceful and warm. She went to find Mom.
“I’m done,” Mom said. “Are you ready to go?”
Lea smiled. “Yes.”
As they left the store, Lea felt as light as sunshine. The yo-yo might have been fun for a while. But following the Holy Ghost was something she wanted to do always.

The Book of Mormon is not just a history book, nor just a book of scripture, for the Wolfgramm kids, whose parents migrated from Tonga to Salt Lake City nearly 20 years ago. It’s the story of their family—their relatives. Its sacred pages help them trace their genealogy back to Adam, through their 88th great-grandfather, Nephi.
Their story parallels that of their ancestors in the Book of Mormon to some degree. Their parents, Mike and Vake, left their homeland and crossed the sea for religious reasons. Back then there were no temples in the South Pacific, and they came to Salt Lake City to be sealed together. They didn’t have the funds to make it back to Tonga, however, so they stayed in the States and began adding to their family.
Like the family of Lehi, the Wolfgramms had to work hard to carve a place for themselves in their new country. In addition to other jobs, the parents were involved in Polynesian performing groups in the Salt Lake area. As soon as the children were old enough to walk and talk, they were taught to play, sing, and dance in the Polynesian tradition. They eagerly took to the stage, and soon the family had a Polynesian group of their own.